Love and Justice
by lildreamer7
Summary: Finished! Grillows. With those words, the graveyard shift supervisor's world came crashing down all around him...
1. Chapter 1

**Title:** Love and Justice

**Author:** lildreamer

**Rating:** K+

**Pairings:** Grillows

**Spoilers:** None

**Summary:** With those words, the graveyard shift supervisor's world came crashing down all around him.

**Disclaimer:** I do not own CSI or any of its characters

**On with the story…**

This wasn't supposed to happen. Not like this…

Catherine looked through the iron bars at her best friend, who was sitting on the edge of his bed, nervously running his hand through his hair. Grissom had spent the last few weeks in a prison cell, awaiting his sentence. It had been nearly two months since he had been pinned for a murder he didn't commit, but the memories remained fresh in everyone's minds like a horrible nightmare.

With nine simple words, the graveyard shift supervisor's world came crashing down all around him.

_Flashback…_

"Gil, I—" Brass looked up at his friend with a look of infinite sadness. "I'm sorry."

Grissom pulled off his glasses and inclined his head, confused. "For what?"

"For what I'm about to do."

Grissom furrowed his brow, Catherine mirroring his puzzled expression.

"Grissom…" Brass thought for a moment, trying to find the right words, then, "You're under arrest for the murder of Jennifer Collins."

Brass looked away, unable to watch as his friend was put in handcuffs.

That was the hardest thing the police captain ever had to do. And he would never be able to forgive himself for it. He felt like he had betrayed everyone, especially his friends. In all of his years with the department, he never thought he'd actually have to do what he just did.

He had just arrested his best friend.

_End Flashback._

"Miss Willows?" said the guard that had been standing next to her, pulling her from her thoughts. "Are you ready?"

She closed her eyes momentarily, considering the question. She would never truly be ready. Not for something like this. She opened her eyes and nodded at the guard. He immediately took out his keys and began to unlock the door. As she watched him, her thoughts went back to that day. She had been so angry at Ecklie that she would have wrung his neck had he not surprised her and the rest of the team the way he did.

_Flashback…_

Catherine was furious as she stormed down the hallway, rehearsing in her mind what argument—or wrestling hold—she would use to get that stupid, self-righteous, filthy little weasel Ecklie off his lazy behind and _do_ something about all this! Whether he was in his office or anywhere else, she was going to find him, and no matter what nonsense he would use to excuse all this, she was going to get some action!

Ecklie sat in his office, waiting. He knew what was coming. He'd known ever since the report landed on his desk. But right now, he felt like he wanted to hide under it. He glanced out into the hallway and saw Catherine and the rest of the team coming his way. And none of them looked to happy.

"Ecklie, what the heck is going on?" Catherine burst through the doorway, followed closely by the others.

Ecklie swallowed hard. "Now, everyone, just calm—"

"Calm down?" Sara burst out angrily. "Grissom just got arrested!"

"I know. I'm sorry."

"You _knew_ about this?" Nick glared at him.

"I got the report two days ago," Ecklie confessed. "Day shift's been working the case for the past few weeks. I was as surprised as you were when I found out who their lead suspect was."

"And when exactly were you planning to tell us?" Warrick asked, his anger boiling. "After he's been convicted?"

"I'm sorry," Ecklie apologized. "My hands were tied. Besides, they weren't even supposed to arrest him, yet. But the stupid DA couldn't wait."

"Do you honestly believe Grissom would do something like this?" Catherine asked.

"Of course not." Ecklie reached for a folder on his desk. "That's why I'm giving you this."

He handed the folder to the female CSI. She opened it and glanced at the first few pages. It was the report that had gotten their supervisor in trouble.

"Why are you doing this?" Catherine asked, eyeing the assistant director suspiciously.

Ecklie smiled. "Hey, I want him back as much as you guys do. He's my best criminalist. He's also…a friend."

Catherine arched an eyebrow. That was the last thing she had expected him to say.

"Uh, thanks…"

_End Flashback._

Ecklie's actions had really surprised them. Instead of scolding them, he actually chose to help them. But even with him on their side, they couldn't find anything to clear their supervisor's name. They worked constantly, day in and day out, but all the evidence seemed to be against him, to the frustration of his team. And as the case continued, the press had become more accusing and cruel. They had slaughtered Grissom since the first day. And they would continue screaming retribution until another earth-shattering event distracted them.

Finally getting the door unlocked, the guard led Catherine inside, their footsteps echoing ominously with each step. As they walked down the corridor, she couldn't help but glance into the other cells. One inmate that caught her eye was cowering in the corner of his cell, his arms enfolding himself. He had to be the newest and youngest inmate there. Except for one frightened glance, he would not look at her, unlike some of the others who were giving her wolf whistles and calling seductively to her as she walked past. She ignored them as her thoughts went back to what happened to her friend during his first week in prison. She had had a bad feeling about it from the beginning and knew that it would only be a matter of time before the other inmates would recognize the CSI.

_Flashback…_

She and the rest of the team had come to visit their supervisor under the guise that they were there working a prison break case, which wasn't that far off. They had found their way outside of the prison yard where most of the inmates had gathered after their midday meal. Catherine gazed through the fence and spotted him first.

Grissom sat by himself at a table, his nose buried in a book, one of the only personal items the prison had allowed him to keep along with his glasses. One of the inmates, a hulk of a man covered in tattoos, made his way over to the table, flanked by four other large inmates. He snatched the book out of Grissom's hand, tore the pages apart, and flung it to the ground.

"Looks like you're one of us now, CSI." The tattooed inmate gave Grissom a taunting little shove.

Grissom glanced at the large man then bent down to retrieve his book, not saying a word.

"Not so brave now, are you?" Tattoo growled. Another shove. "Hey! I'm talking to you!" A two handed shove.

Grissom took the shoving and tried to stay cool. "Look, I don't want any trouble, but I'm not—"

OOF! He should've seen it coming: a violent punch to his midsection. He double over, pain coursing through every organ in his body. He toppled to the ground, his arms enfolding his stomach.

"Get up!" Tattoo demanded, about to kick him.

"Hey, didn't you see what that guy just did?" Catherine demanded, glaring at one of the guards watching over the inmates.

The guard stared at her, eyebrow raised, then glanced at the scene over by the table.

"Cool it, Rex," he called to the tattooed man. The way he'd said it, he didn't seem to care about what was going on.

Rex ignored him and smirked as he watched Grissom get back to his feet.

"Just so you know, all that science crap of yours ain't gonna work here, CSI," he laughed. "You're done."

Catherine and the others saw the look on their supervisor's face. Grissom was scared. He was backing up toward the building while Rex and his guys kept coming at him. They reached the wall. Grissom was hemmed in against the fence.

"Someone's gotta stop this!" Nick cried from behind Catherine.

The entire yard exploded in yells, taunts, and jeers, cursing the former CSI. Rex and his men, egged on by the crowd, grabbed Grissom and dragged him toward the center of the yard. The mob followed, surrounding him. He was trying to run, tripping, falling, and crawling on the ground, trying to get up, knocked down again, crawling again, covering his head with one arm as Rex and his goons kicked, poked, slapped, and shoved him, and as the rest of the mob got their licks in. Some of the inmates had drinks that they had had since mealtime. They poured the drinks all over the cowering CSI, cheering loudly with each splash.

Several officers finally appeared in the yard, running from different directions, shouting, waving their guns, making threats.

But the inmates were a mob now, beyond words, beyond threats, beyond control. They enveloped the officers, attacking, slapping, punching, throwing anything they could find, without reason, without mercy. Grissom ducked, his arms over his head. He caught an arm right in the face, breaking his glasses. He threw a few punches, but the guys throwing punches back were bigger than he was.

By the time the mob was finally subdued, Grissom was tattered, bruised, and soaked with who-knows-what. His friends immediately ran to his side and helped him to his feet then helped him inside.

_End Flashback…_

The next prisoner that caught Catherine's eye was grumpy and was clearly not interested in the two people walking down the corridor. Catherine felt a pang of guilt as she looked into the next cell. The inmate in it apparently had been there for a long time. The poor man sat painfully in the corner, bent, crooked, arthritic. His joints were knobby and his limbs weak. He tried to reach out, but he was too tired to move.

One cell's occupant sent shivers down her spine. His cold, gray eyes studied her with suspicion and loathing. He looked like he'd been injured recently, his leg bound in a cast. He huffed at her and tried to rise to his feet to scream and threaten. The injured leg buckled and he fell back onto his seat, resigned to making threats he could never carry out.

A hint of sadness flashed in her eyes when she glanced into one of the last cells. Its occupant didn't acknowledge her and the guard's presence, but merely sat there, endlessly counting his fingers. Catherine recognized this mannerism. He'd given up.

She suddenly remembered when _they_ had almost given up. The lab was about to give up on them and they weren't far behind.

_Flashback…_

"They've got a good case if you'd just listen!" Brass defended his friends.

"I'd like to hear it," Ecklie said.

"You'll lose credibility!" one of the lab techs warned. "You're losing people already, or haven't you noticed?"

Catherine and the rest of the team stood to the side, having slept little and accomplished less. They weren't invited to be part of the discussion.

Another lab tech spoke up. "Sir, pardon me, but a lot of us need to know we're not wasting our time."

"Yeah," an officer agreed. "How do we know he didn't kill the girl and he's just making up his innocence?"

Brass bristled. "Hey, why don't you just shut up?"

"Well, I'm not the only one who thinks so!"

"Shut up anyway."

Ecklie glanced over at Grissom's team as if trying to read them.

"Ecklie, there _is_ more to this," Brass said. "You haven't seen all the cards yet. You just have to trust them."

"What about the investigation? Are we done?"

Brass looked down at the ground. "I know some of you don't see much point in keeping this case going, and maybe you're right. But I'm gonna keep on it, even if I'm alone."

Hodges sighed. "We all feel that way."

"Do we?" Ecklie asked.

"Sir, you know the score here." Archie spoke up. "I don't have to tell you the chances of finding the real killer if they haven't found him by now."

"So now I suppose you want some big decision from me."

Ecklie drew a deep breath and took a moment to weigh his words. When he had everyone by the eyes, he answered, "It's easy to tell me—heck, even tell yourselves—that it's over for Dr. Grissom. But which one of you wants to tell his team, his friends?" He didn't wait long for an answer; he just kept going. "When you can look anyone on that team in the eye and tell them that it's over for their supervisor even though you can't prove it; when you're ready to watch their hope lie right down and die; if any of you can come away from breaking the heart of friend and still call them your friend…" He was beginning to struggle. "Then, all right. I'll accept that and say we did our best."

Everyone was silent and would no longer meet his eye. Ecklie had surprised them yet again. But it was far from over. Catherine went to visit Grissom soon after that and found her friend on the verge of giving up as well.

Catherine stared at him. She couldn't believe what she was hearing.

"Look," Grissom said. "I may be—_was_—your supervisor, but I am still struggling with fears and emotions. I'm not as strong as I should be. I—I'm scared, Catherine." He looked up at her with heartbreakingly sad eyes. "I don't wanna be here. I—I don't wanna die."

Catherine's gaze softened.

"Do you think I like being hated by everyone?"

She placed a hand on top of his. "Not everyone hates you."

Tears slid down Grissom's face as he looked into her eyes and found love and understanding. They sat in silence for a moment then he wiped his eyes and smiled for the first time since this had all started.

"Thank you."

"For what?" Catherine couldn't understand why he was smiling. "They're still going to sentence you to death. Don't you care?"

Grissom shook his head. "I don't care what happens to me. I care about _you_."

She stared at him in surprise, not sure what to say.

"Look at what this case is doing to you. You've been working so much; you're daughter probably hasn't seen you in ages. And you look like you're about to collapse from hunger and exhaustion. You need to drop this case."

"What? No, I can't." Tears flooded her eyes. "I won't. I am not going to lose you…"

_End Flashback._

"Hey, Grissom," the guard said as they reached his cell. "You've got a visitor."

Grissom looked up and found Catherine staring down at him, her once sparkling blue eyes now pale and sad. The corner of his mouth lifted slightly as the guard unlocked the door so that she could go in. The door slid shut behind her and she took a seat on the bed next to him.

"How're you doing?" Catherine asked softly.

"Considering the circumstances…" he glanced through the bars of his cell, regarding the other cells beyond his own. "Okay, I guess."

"That's good."

"How's the team doing?"

Catherine's thoughts went to her friends who were in another part of the building, waiting for her. "They're holding up."

"What about _you_?"

She closed her eyes and turned away from him, choking back the knot that had appeared in her throat. She couldn't answer that. She didn't want to lie.

"Catherine?"

At the sound of her name, all the emotions that she had pent up inside for years came out like a flood. She turned to face him, tears streaming down her face. Their eyes met and she could see the worry etched on his handsome features.

"This isn't fair!" she sobbed. "I wish I could…If there was—if there was just some way…I—I'd give anything if…I could just…"

"Catherine…" he pulled her into his arms. "This isn't your fault."

"I could've searched harder for more evidence. Dug deeper…"

"You did all you could do. There was nothing more you could have done."

"But you—you don't deserve this." She pulled away from him and looked up at him, her eyes pleading with his. "You have to get out of here. Make a break for it. Get—get as far away as you can…until we can sort this all out."

Grissom sighed and cupped her cheek in his hand. "But could you love a man who'd run away?"

The couple's attention suddenly shifted to the ominous clanking of steel and the outer door slowly swinging open, reminding them which cellblock they were on—death row. They could hear the sound of several feet marching into the cellblock, coming their way.

"It's time," Grissom whispered as the footsteps drew closer and closer.

Catherine's eyes flooded with tears as he pulled her into his embrace and hugged her for the very last time.

"Take care of the them."

Several officers and a pastor suddenly appeared outside the cell and watched as the same guard from before opened the cell door. An officer immediately stepped inside and pulled them apart, dragging Grissom out of the cell. "Come on."

"No!" Catherine cried, following them. "What are you doing?"

The other officers moved in, surrounding Grissom, forcing him along as the pastor prayed for him. Catherine grabbed one of the officers' arms.

"You can't do this!"

Another officer grabbed her by the arm and held her back. "Stand aside."

She broke free from his grasp and ran after her friend. "Gil!"

Panic and fear coursed through Catherine's body as they led him down the corridor. As they walked, Grissom, being hurried along by the officers, looked over his shoulder and mouthed the words, "I love you." and then they pulled him through a large, heavy door and he was gone.

The door shut completely the instant Catherine reached it. The large door was cold, cruel, immovable. The knob didn't even rattle when she tugged at it.

"No…"

**Whaddaya think? Love it? Hate it? Keep going?**


	2. Chapter 2

**Here's another chappy, ya'll. Hope ya like!**

Death by lethal injection.

That was the sentence the jury had chosen for him. Catherine sat in the execution chamber, the rest of the team on either side of her, her eyes staring through the giant glass window at the table and numerous tubes filled with chemicals that would be taking an innocent man's life in a few minutes.

She turned to glance at her friends then shifted her gaze over to the wall. Several phones hung there, but there was one that she had her eyes glued on. The one that had a direct line to the governor's office. That man was the only one who had the power to stop this now…

The strawberry-blonde CSI was suddenly pulled from her thoughts by a loud, grating voice coming from the back of the room. She turned around to see what was going on and found the one person she didn't want to see at that moment stealing a glance at her, a smirk on her face.

Vicky Thorne.

She was the ADA that had prosecuted Grissom and there was nothing Catherine wanted to do more than go over to that woman and punch her lights out. She had been their greatest frustration throughout the entire ordeal.

_Flashback…_

All heads turned toward the back of the courtroom as he walked through the doors. Grissom glanced around nervously at the faces staring at him. Most were void of expression while others glared accusingly. But there were also those who could look past the charges and see an innocent man. His team—his friends—were among those few who knew he could never be a criminal. After all, he spent most of his life solving crimes not committing them. He took a deep breath and, with head held high, slid into the seat next to his lawyer.

"All rise," the bailiff ordered as the judge entered the room. "Court is now in session, the honorable Judge Daniel Schaffer presiding."

Everyone watched as the judge, a large man with graying blonde hair, took his seat. His audience followed suit and the bailiff continued.

"Case 319-922. The state of Nevada vs. Dr. Gil Grissom on the charge of murder in the first degree. Will the accused please rise."

Both Grissom and his lawyer, Ron Trott, immediately rose from their seats. Trott was an old lawyer friend from LA who would normally be working cases with colleagues from his law firm, TNT & G. But these were special circumstances. He was more than willing to go out of his way and out of state to defend his friend.

"How do you plead?" the judge asked, glancing at the tall, brown-haired lawyer over his glasses.

Trott cleared his throat and answered confidently, "We plead not guilty, your honor."

Gasps and murmurs rippled through the courtroom. Judge Schaffer pounded his gavel, calling for order, and the room instantly silenced. Everyone's attention was now back on the trial.

Grissom sighed heavily. He could not believe this was happening. He was being charged for the murder of a girl he barely knew. Yet all the evidence seemed to be pointing to him as the killer. And as he's said himself many times—the evidence never lies. But in this case, something wasn't right. He would never do anything like that. He wasn't a murderer.

"Ms. Prosecutor, are we ready to proceed?" the judge asked, his gaze shifting toward the prosecutor, Victoria Thorne.

She rose from her seat. "Yes, your honor."

Thorne was an older woman, wearing a designer woman's suit over a white, silk blouse. Her silver-blonde hair was perfectly combed and her makeup expertly applied to a smooth, perfectly tanned face that was remarkably free of blemishes. It was apparent that she was no stranger to self-pampering and plastic surgery.

She glanced over at Grissom and looked him over with a sneering, judgmental eye as she began her opening statement.

"Citizens of Nevada," she began, turning to face her audience. "We're here today to decide the fate of Dr. Gil Grissom. Dr. Grissom is charged with the murder of Jennifer Collins. And I intend to prove beyond the shadow of a doubt that he _is_ capable of murder. As a former crime scene investigator he says he's innocent. But how else could you possibly explain the brutal killing of an innocent young woman? On the charge of first-degree murder, Dr. Gil Grissom _must_ be found guilty. People like him mustbe found guilty and for the benefit of us all, the sentence must be death."

Those words cut through Grissom like a knife and somewhere in the audience Catherine was shaking her head, her anger boiling. It took all her will power to keep herself from marching up there and wringing that woman's neck.

That day, Victoria Thorne had been marked as the CSIs' worst enemy.

_End Flashback._

Thorne had beaten them down at every turn and somehow managed to discount every single piece of evidence they had found. In the end, she'd practically weaseled her way into the court's favor.

"_You_!" Mad, blazing eyes burned into Vicky Thorne.

Vicky turned from the conversation she was having to look the CSI square in the eye. "Yeah, _me_."

"What is _she_ doing here?" Warrick asked, bitterness dripping from his voice.

He knew who Vicky was. The entire team knew who she was.

The ADA ignored them and took a seat near the front of the room. She leaned back in her seat with an almost haughty air of confidence. And just when things couldn't possibly get any worse, they spotted _her_ walking into the room.

Deanna Collins. Jennifer's sister.

She saw the CSIs, too.

She glared at them, the hatred in her eyes freezing them to their seats. She marched up to them, tears streaming down her face.

"I hope your friend rots in hell for what he did to my sister!" she cried. "And to my family!"

They couldn't take much more of this. It was like the entire world had turned against them. Catherine looked over at her friends. She'd lied to Grissom earlier. They weren't holding up; they were falling apart. Warrick was staring down at the ground, his eyes burning with hot, unshed tears. Sara was crying, her head buried in her hands. And Nick just held on to her to keep her from losing it altogether, his own tears threatening to fall. Greg, the youngest of them, seemed like he was in a daze. He stared straight ahead, lost and confused, not knowing how to feel.

A door clicked behind the large glass window and they all looked up to see a man in a tweed suit and glasses checking the machines and the straps that were strong enough to hold down even the most hardened criminal. After he was sure everything was in proper working order, he crossed out of their line of vision and that's when they saw him.

Two men were hurrying, nearly dragging Grissom into the room. Catherine glanced back and forth from the scene in the window to the phone on the wall desperately wishing, praying that it would ring and stop all this madness. But the offending object remained achingly silent.

Before they pushed him onto the table, Grissom looked over his shoulder one last time to glance at his friends—the only people who had stuck by him through all this mess. A single tear slid silently down his cheek, and then, against his will, they propped him up on the table.

He lay there, silent, as they strapped his wrists and ankles to the table. A needle connected to the many tubes pierced the skin of his forearm causing him to wince at the sudden prick of pain.

Catherine glanced over at Vicky who she thought was probably enjoying all of this. The ADA wasn't smiling, but the expression in her eyes spoke volumes. The woman's deep blue eyes were cold and uncaring.

"Dr. Grissom, any last words?" a man suddenly asked, pulling Catherine's attention back to the window.

The man was holding a microphone to Grissom's mouth, but he declined the offer, turning his head away from the microphone. What more could he possibly have to say? He'd already said it all, but no one seemed to want to listen. All of his words had fallen on deaf ears.

The man put the microphone down and nodded to another man that was standing near the machine. The man nodded back and began fiddling with the machine's controls. Grissom lay there, squeezing his eyes shut, bracing himself for what he knew was coming. The machine hummed to life and everyone in the adjacent room watched as several chemicals were pumped into the tubes and down into the former CSI's arm.

At that moment, his beloved team finally lost it. Warrick's head was now in hands, his shoulders shaking with every sob. Sara and Nick had their arms wrapped tightly around each other, now both crying. Silent tears were sliding down Greg's cheek, the realization of what was going on finally hitting him, hard.

Catherine's mind went numb and she ran out of the room, no longer able handle the scene in front of her. Weakened by despair and sorrow wrenching her insides, she fell back against the door and sank down, sick and shaking. It was over. It was all over. All that work—for nothing. Her best friend was back inside that room, dying, and she was helpless to do anything to stop it. She felt her heart begin to break. And it made her want to cry.

And she did.

She let go, abandoning herself to her sobbing, her hand over her mouth trying to hide the sound of her anguish.

**BRRRRRRIIINGGG!**

Catherine lifted her head at the new sound, holding back a sob.

_Could it be?_

**Oooh, what happens next? Reviews hold the answer…**


	3. Chapter 3

**Here's the last chapter, ya'll! Thanx for all the reviews…**

Catherine pulled herself up and stared at the door, wiping her eyes and pulling in her sobs. Was she hearing things? She stood there, straining her ears to hear through the door. There it was again! The clear, high-pitched ringing of a telephone was unmistakable.

It wasn't her imagination. The phone was really ringing!

She burst back into the room causing everyone to turn their heads to stare at her momentarily before focusing their attention on the man who had just answered the phone. He listened intently to the other end, nodding every few seconds. He quickly hung up the phone and picked up another one that was connected to the adjacent room.

"Stop!" He ordered urgently. "Stop the execution!"

The executioners immediately obeyed, shutting down the machine. The pumps halted, reducing the stream of deadly chemicals to a slow drip.

"That was the governor," the man explained, turning to everyone else in the room. "He just granted Mr. Grissom a stay of execution."

There was a collective sigh of relief that swept through the room, but the feeling was short-lived. The normal _beep-beep-beep_ of the vital signs monitor had just turned into a single note of alarm. Several paramedics that had been standing by crowded around the table, frantically trying to revive him.

Catherine stared at the vital signs monitor in horror. Grissom had already lost consciousness and now his heart had just stopped. _No…_

Another paramedic rushed into the room pushing a crash cart. Catherine and the rest of the team had to force themselves to watch as he held the electric pads, waiting for their supervisor's okay. The man tore open Grissom's shirt, preparing for what he had to do.

"Give me two-sixty!" One of the older paramedics grabbed the pads and placed them on the former CSI's bare chest.

"Clear!"

Grissom's body jerked as volts of electricity coursed through it, but his heart did not respond.

"Again!"

The pads were replaced, giving his body another shock. Still no response.

"Three hundred!" The doctor ordered, upping the dose of power.

Grissom's body jerked harder, but his heart did nothing. Catherine heard every word and saw the room tilt as her mind began to shut down. _This isn't happening. You can't die…_

"Again…!"

--------------------

Catherine sat in the back of the ambulance and held Grissom's hand while one of the paramedics got an IV into his arm and the other provided oxygen.

As the ambulance sped toward Desert Palms, the paramedic briefed the waiting trauma team. By the time he'd finished, they'd already turned off the highway and onto the main campus roadway leading to the hospital, sirens blaring. Catherine pressed a cold hand to his cheek. _Hold on, Gil. Please, hold on…_

They stopped with a jolt and the paramedics pulled the gurney onto the tarmac and started barreling toward the emergency room. The automatic doors slid open and closed and they were in the receiving area, where the waiting trauma team instantly surrounded the gurney, brushed-steel equipment carts at the ready.

More IV needles went in. A vital signs monitor was hooked up. A nurse started calling out pulse rate and blood pressure. All while the gurney accelerated toward a set of doors marked EMERGENCY ROOM PERSONNEL ONLY.

Catherine was sucked along in its wake, trying to keep Grissom's face in sight as the trauma team worked furiously around him. Then the gurney was bumping through the doors and a hand gently held her back from following.

"I'm sorry. You'll have to wait out here. We'll update you on your friend's condition as soon as we have more information." She mumbled a thank-you and the nurse disappeared after the gurney. She could hear the urgent back-and-forth of the trauma team for a moment, then the doors thumped shut and she was alone.

---------------------------

"I think he's waking up."

It was the first sound he recognized as a voice. He'd been listening to garbled sounds for what seemed like hours. He moved and became aware of his body. He could feel his hands brushing across bed sheets, feel the pressure of a pillow against his head.

Then he felt a hand on his. "Gil?" Catherine's voice.

He opened his eyes. They rolled about lazily for a moment, trying to focus on something, and finally, after a few blinks, he recognized his team, his friends, standing around his bed. There was Sara, Nick, and Warrick. And there was Catherine. They were all grinning at him, then grinning at each other, looking so happy they looked silly.

He vaguely recalled the last thing he could remember—and then regretted remembering it. "What happened?"

Catherine looked at him, a grim kind of smile on her face. "We almost lost you."

As she said that, Grissom noticed another man in the room, stepping around his team to get to him. A doctor. He raised an eyebrow, finally realizing that he was in a hospital.

The doctor took his pulse then held a light to his eyes. "Look here." He waved the light back-and-forth and then put it in his shirt pocket and smiled. "I'd say his with us again."

"Thank God," Sara breathed.

"Welcome back, Gris," Warrick grinned.

"It could take another week for the poison to completely purge from his system," the doctor explained before turning to leave. "After that, your friend should recover the full use of his limbs and be able to walk again."

Suddenly, the door swung open and Greg ran into the room bursting with excitement.

"Hey, guys, check it out!" the young CSI said as he turned on the television.

They all looked up at the screen and saw the same judge from Grissom's hearing staring straight at the camera.

"Having reviewed the information attached to the motion and considered the argument of counsel for the defendant," Judge Schaffer began. "The court finds that significant new evidence indicates that Mr. Grissom did _not_ commit the crime for which he was tried and convicted. I therefore grant defendant's motion and order him released from custody upon his own recognizance."

That was it. Grissom was free. Tears welled in his eyes in contradiction to the smile that burst forth on his face. Tears of joy and relief. Nick patted him on the shoulder, and Grissom did his best to wipe his eyes with the back of his hand.

"Thank you," he whispered, and then stopped at the collective sight of the faces of the people who had given so much to help him. Pent-up emotions flowed from almost every pair of eyes in the room. At that moment, Brass walked into the room, grinning from ear to ear. Grissom turned to his friend and smiled, "What can I say?"

Brass went to his bedside and gave him a bear hug. "You don't have to say anything."

As Brass let him go, Grissom's gaze fell. "So, it's kind of a good ending, I guess. But it's hard to feel happy about anything. No one should have died."

"True," Brass nodded. "But there is one consolation. We caught the real killer and he's gonna be rotting in jail for a very long time."

"Yeah!" Greg cheered, pumping his fist in the air. "Score one for the good guys!"

"You know, for awhile there, I thought we were beat," Warrick confessed. "But you know what? We aren't. Not yet. Not by a long shot."

Grissom looked up at Catherine and gave her a special smile. She smiled back at him, returning his love with her eyes. Then something else flashed in her eyes. Something she hadn't felt in years.

Hope.

**The end. Questions? Comments?**


End file.
